


2 AM Crime Scenes (And Other Unlikely Places to Make Friends)

by southby



Series: Peripherals [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Deadpool being Deadpool, Gen, Graphic Description, Male-Female Friendship, Poor Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:20:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28842258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southby/pseuds/southby
Summary: Kayla Faucheux is an overworked EMT who is unlucky enough to get called to one of Deadpool's latest crime scenes. She knew she pissed off her supervisor enough to get stuck with the night shifts, but this whole thing has Kayla wondering if she happened to piss off the Universe as well.Oh well, at least she got to one-up Mike from Berkley.Prick.
Series: Peripherals [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112771
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	2 AM Crime Scenes (And Other Unlikely Places to Make Friends)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [in technicolor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16801942) by [deniigiq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniigiq/pseuds/deniigiq). 



> Hi team! Once again, I was struck by inspiration from a chapter of "in technicolor" by deniiqig when it mentioned an EMT who solved Deadpool's crossword puzzle. 
> 
> As per usual, this series will be about the people who live on the peripherals of our heroes lives. I am still _very_ new to this, so please, please, please leave feedback in the comments.

Kayla knew she had no damn business opening her mouth around supervillains (super-reformed villains? An anti-hero? He doesn’t kill good people nowadays, that’s gotta count for something). But if she’s being completely honest, she had absolutely no control over her mouth when the answer finally popped into her head. 

Ok, so it went like this:

Kayla was working night shifts (which she only got put on because she pissed off her supervisor, but that’s a different story), so she had seen some pretty wack stuff. Also, she was around for the alien invasion, so when they got the call that Deadpool had set up a nice little crime scene busting up some drug headquarters, but had surprisingly left them all _mostly_ alive, well. Kayla rolled with it. Apparently Deadpool started teaming up with Spiderman and Daredevil and occasionally helped the police by not murdering everyone in sight. For whatever reason, the crazies really came out at night in New York, but this was the first time she had seen such creativity in the carnage. Nobody _died_ per say, but there were definitely people who may not ever be walking straight again.

She was, like, the fourth EMS van to show up on the scene so she luckily didn’t have any squirters but the mostly concussed people who were pretty damn confused. 

Deadpool was sitting on a massive crate, simultaneously calling out crime scene SOP violations and asking everyone if they knew the 10 letter word across for a “cave dweller or hermit”. So, less mass murder and more general nuisance. 

The man in the maroon tracksuit looked around again, eyes completely glazed over, and tried to stand up and walk towards the warehouse door. 

“Oh no ya don’t, come back here.” Kayla grumbled as she swung the man around in a circle and guided him back to the opened back of the van where she was attempting to gauze up the nasty wound on his head. Man was _still_ bleeding, damn. She was debating internally whether half his nose was cut off before or after his teeth were partially beat out of his head, when Mike sidles up next to her. 

Mike Haroldson was the most _obnoxious_ fucking person in existence, and that was saying something considering who was singing peppy sea shanties under their breath while cross-wording twelve feet above their heads. 

He ‘bumped’ her out of the way of the bandages before instantly launching into a fully fleshed out critique on the method of her injury clean up. He went on and on about how ‘simple’ crosswords were and how at _Berkley_ he was top of his class, and how at _Berkley_ he was president of the chess club and how at _Berkley_ he was – 

Christ, Kayla hated that guy. 

What a fucking paragod, asshole really thinks he knows everything. So, naturally, Kayla really didn’t hesitate to fucking _scream_ the answer when it finally popped into her brain. 

“TROGLODYTE!” Her voice echoed in the cavernous warehouse before fading out, but not before causing all extra movement to stop. The severely concussed criminal flinched back from her and went a little green around the edges – which, oops. Sorry, bro. 

That brings us to now. 

The entire floor goes silent and just stares at her, but Deadpool’s eye-hole things get super wide and he leaps down from off the crate he was perched on just to give her a snappy high-five and the pen with a bobbly smiley-face on the top of it. The poor police officer running the crime scene and information gathering just looks seven different levels of tired and runs a weary hand over his face. 

Deadpool leans against the side of the van as he folds up his crossword and sticks it in a pouch pocket.

“Ha! Finally, someone with some relevant information! This one should come to my parties more often, then rest of you are useless!”

Oh yeah, Mike could totally suck her dick on this one. 

If anything, the poor cop looks even more tired before wearily gesturing around the warehouse that was absolutely soaked in blood and at least two severed limbs. 

“How is this a party, Deadpool? Actually, no don’t answer that please. The main office had papers, but they’re nearly unreadable given they’ve been contaminated by bodily fluids. Including your piss. Please tell me you pulled the information off the computers before you used this man’s head as a hammer to destroy them?”

Huh. So that’s what that shape was, no wonder she pulled a letter key out of his hair earlier. Man, his face _was_ pretty fucked up.

Deadpool leaps up onto the top of the EMS van – wow his vertical was insane – before beginning to argue with the officer. Kayla tunes it out and gets back to work. 

She absentmindedly wonders if she can sell the pen on ebay to help make her rent. What would the asking price for that even be? Hell, what would the _listing_ for that even be? 

**”ONE SLIGHTLY USED SMILEY PEN – FORMERLY OWNED BY THE MASS MURDERER DEADPOOL, MAY BE HAUNTED. BID NOW!!1!1”**

As she tapes the bandages over Tracksuits head, she decides $300 is a reasonable opening bid. She can’t prove previous ownership, but it might be enough to sucker some guy into buying it. She once read a Buzzfeed article about someone selling the plaster cutout of a dried blood spatter that Deadpool once left behind for like, $900. All about how you market it, right? 

Deadpool is still swinging his feet against the EMS van that he has now decided is his newest perch and checking his phone, and since Kayla has not much in the way of self-preservation, she decides to ask for his advice on it. He didn’t murder the _actual_ criminals here, she felt pretty good about him not murdering the helpful EMT who finished his crossword puzzle. Plus, her mom could probably use the life insurance payout if he _did_ end up taking offense and cutting her in half, or something. Does her life insurance cover murder by mercenary? Probably not, but if it were a gruesome enough death maybe the lawsuit against the police department would payout big time.

As she opens her mouth, he whips his head around and stares very intently at her (well, she assumes he’s looking at her, the eye things can sometimes be super misleading) and asks – “Hey brainiac, do you think lava would be spicy?”

Kayla closes her mouth, previous train of thought instantly derailed. 

(ADHD who?)

She frowns thoughtfully while pressing another QuickClot package into the guy who has now passed out, and considers the full possibility of the question. She decides on, “I would theorize that its actually kind of an umami-ish taste. But honestly, if anyone would be able to discover that answer to that question, it would be you. I hear flights to Hawaii are pretty cheap right now, I bet you could test it.” She snorts and follows up with, “The only difference between screwing around and science is writing it down.”

Once again, all movement stops as people begin to stare at her. 

Yea, Kayla had a darker sense of what was acceptable to say in public, she knew. 

Apparently Deadpool thought this was _fucking hilarious_ , however, because he let out a massive crow of laughter and leapt down from the EMS van again. He stood up to his full height, towering over her (Jesus Christ those _had_ to be platform combat boots) and smacked her on her shoulders so hard her knees nearly buckled. He whirled her around to face him. 

“Oh, we like you! You’re a bit twisted. Do you think I could get funding for the research?” His mask gazed at her very intently from four inches away. 

Kayla’s body froze, her sense of self-preservation finally rearing its head and helpfully telling her that the reason Tracksuit was now missing half his teeth and part of his nose was standing right in front of her. The cop also seemed to realize this, and the EMT saw the movement in her peripherals as his hand very slowly crept towards his gun. 

Kayla’s life motto was “In for a penny, in for a pound”, so instead of gently extracting herself from the delicate situation, she said, “Well, usually your name has to get associated with research, and I don’t think mass-murdering psychopaths are super credible, so no.”

His hands tightened around her shoulder and she fought down a wince – as she was imagining the several million dollars her family would receive from her death, his hands loosened, and he clapped them loudly together in front of her face. 

“Too true, my fellow Watson!” He whirled back around and faced the detective. “Sorry Honeybunches, you snooze, you lose, and I got here first. No flash drive for you; you’ll have to do the rest of the legwork yourself. Toodles!” And with that, the Kevlar covered psycho waltzed right out the front door. 

Kayla finished up the rest of her work under the slightly resentful eye of the poor cop who had to stick around to the end, and thought how tonight definitely made her top five New Yorker ™ interactions. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! As always, feel free to leave even the most harsh of feedback in the comments ;) I promise I can take it.


End file.
